


Outcasts

by KosmicKrunch



Category: Clone High
Genre: Anxiety, Clone High - Freeform, Drinking, Drugs, Fluff and Angst, Gandgogh, Gandhi X Van Gogh, Gandhi is an idiot, Gangogh, I was like there's barely any gangoghs fics on ao3, M/M, References to Depression, References to Drugs, References to Sex, Sex Jokes, Swearing, Underage Drinking, Van Gogh X Gandhi, Weed, and I've never written before, but I like this ship so, i put tws before chapters, if it's very ooc I apoligize, inspired by every fanfiction I've read of them, this is the outcome of that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:07:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29481183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KosmicKrunch/pseuds/KosmicKrunch
Summary: Van Gogh expects an apology after what Gandhi has done.He receives not only an apology but a closer relationship than what they had before.
Relationships: Gandhi/Vincent Van Gogh (Clone High)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	1. Painter's Revenge

"I hate this school..." muttered Gandhi after viewing Van Gogh's painted mural. He deserved the embarrassment for what he had done to him last night at JFK's party. Vincent not only felt humiliated by Gandhi and his peers but betrayed by someone he considered a friend.

He sat at Gandhi's lunch table every day and sometimes made a conversation with the guy. Van Gogh was the polar opposite of Gandhi. Gandhi was extremely talkative, outgoing, and hyperactive, but the one thing that the two had in common was that they were both not very popular, social outcasts if you will. They considered each other friends like the rest of their lunch table did. Outcasts had to stick together, right? And sure, Gandhi was a show-off and made asshole remarks at times, but never did he expect him to pull off such a dick move that he did at JFK's party.

Van Gogh had called the Teen Crisis Hotline that night as a result of feeling extremely lonely. He was contemplating attending JFK's party even, to get to socialize with those he sat at lunch with or possibly make new friends, but his anxiety was the one thing keeping him from not wanting to go. He feared being made fun of or ridiculed by his peers. He figured that someone on the Teen Crisis Hotline could talk him out of his anxiety and change his mind, but looking back, he regrets dialing the number in the first place.

"Thanks, Van Gogh!" waved an unnaturally-red-haired girl, breaking him out of his thoughts.

'That must be Joan from the hotline.' Van Gogh pondered.

After viewing Gandhi's disappointed facial expression, Vincent snickered along with the rest of the crowd, but it wasn't quite the reaction he was hoping for. He wanted Gandhi to feel as humiliated as he was the night of the party. He wanted Gandhi to express that humiliation and cry in front of everyone like the painter did that night (just not face-to-face), and deep down within him, he wanted some form of apology.

'We're even now. Would he even consider apologizing?'

\- - - - -

Weeks pass by.

The two haven't conversed at lunch since that day.

Well, one of them tried to. 

Every once in a while the ginger would hear a "What's up, Vannie?" or "Yo V!" when eating or passing by the other in the halls. It's almost like Gandhi completely forgot what happened. That, or he obviously didn't hold grudges. Van Gogh wishes he could forget, or at least pretend to, but what really infuriated him is how quickly Gandhi started acting like his normal self, almost like nothing was wrong. Instead of pretending everything was fine, the painter would simply ignore the other's remarks.

\- - - - -

An announcement by JFK was made on the school's intercom right before the final dismissal bell of the day: 

"PARTY AT MY PLACE TONIGHT! UHHH...STUDENTS ONLY!" announced the jock.

That's right. JFK was having a party at his place tonight that he completely forgot about. Everyone at school had been talking about it all week.

'I don't have any homework to do tonight. Maybe I could go...' Van Gogh thought to himself.


	2. I Know It's You.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vincent drank too much and is currently crying in JFK's bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW/TW: psychological s3lf h4rm, throwing up, underage drinking
> 
> yooooo i wrote this super late on a work night and i was exhausted.  
>  i proofread, but apologies if my english isn't the best.   
> also this chapter is superrr short, but I'm going to be coming out with a new one soon. stay tuned loves c:

Van Gogh's POV:

Maybe he regrets showing up to the party.

EVERYONE was drinking. Not a single person wasn't.

Deciding that there were way too many drunk idiots outside for his liking, Van Gogh goes inside JFK's house. 

Stepping inside, the painter resolves that getting himself drunk like everyone else would make it easier to blend in and maybe help mask his anxiety a bit. He walks to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator door, and grabs 2 cans of beer. This should be good for now. 

\- - - - -

"Hey, Gandhi!"

"Oh, there you are Abe. I was looking all over the place for you." 

"Sorry, I had to go to the gas station. My car was low on fuel. OH, and Joan couldn't make it tonight. She's apparently busy working the hotline." the taller figure told him.

"Booorringgg! Imagine choosing to stay home and listen to people complain about their life problems on the phone rather than go to a huge party with tons of people and getting hella wasted." Gandhi replied, opening a can of beer and downing half of it.

"Pffft, yeah. Remember that one night Joan had you work the hotline?" 

"HAHAHA, YEAH! AND REMEMBER WHEN VAN GOGH CALLED THE HOTLINE TALKING ABOUT HOW SAD AND LONELY HE WAS, SO I PUT HIM ON SPEAKERPHONE AND EVERYONE AT THE PARTY HEARD HIM? ...Woah dude, wait a minute. That wasn't very cool. No wonder he doesn't acknowledge me at lunch anymore."

"Yeah you're right, that wasn't very cool, Gandhi. In all honesty, you should probably apologize to Van Gogh about that." 

"Hmm... yeah, I agree. Next time I get the chance to, I will." Gandhi replied, downing the other half of the can. "Think about it though, we ARE even. He painted me ass-naked and a decent majority of people saw it."

"That's true, but didn't he have a good reason to? You also kind of embarrassed him in front of everyone at the party," Lincoln replied.

"Yeah... you're right. I feel bad for the dude now. I need to say sorry." 

"Do you think that he's here tonight?"

"Nah, probably not. Vince isn't a very social guy. Hey Abe, I think I'm gonna go inside to get more beer. I'll be back."

"Alright dude, I'm gonna go talk to Cleo."

\- - - - -

Van Gogh's POV:

At this point, you've already downed 5, maybe 10, cans of beer and you're in JFK's bathroom throwing it all up. It was a mistake coming here. You knew you wouldn't talk to anyone anyways. What was the point of coming again?

You can't think straight. You have a throbbing headache from the music blasting and now your throat feels like it's on fire from vomiting the alcohol up. You can feel hot tears swell up in your eyes.

'It's not like anyone would've actually talked to you if you went back outside anyway. You're lonely for a reason. Nobody likes you.' More tears fall down your face as sobs escape your lips.

You hear footsteps. 

And then a knock on the door.

Shit.

"Yoo, is someone in there?"

That voice sounds way too familiar. It can't be.

\- - - - -

"Yes."

"Are you okay? I heard crying all the way from the kitchen."

"Go away, Gandhi. I know it's you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tfw ur bawling ur eyes out in the bathroom and someone hears you :eyeroll:


	3. The Apology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> says it all in the title.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this entire chapter takes place in jfk's probably unsanitary bathroom

A pause. The bathroom door opens and a sad, familiar-looking ginger man faces Gandhi. 

"What do you want, Gandhi? To ridicule me in front of everyone again?"

Gandhi takes a step back. This is the last person he expected to see here.

"Yo, Vince... Are you alright? Why are you crying?" asks Gandhi, completely dodging the other's question.

"No, I'm not alright, but why do you care?"

"Are you serious dude? I care because we're friends!"

"We're friends? Seriously? Yeah, right. Friends don't humiliate each other in front of others, Gandhi. Especially knowing that it'll hurt them." sniffled Van Gogh.

"Look man, I was actually just thinking about you tonight. I thought about what I did to you and I want to ap*ologize."

That seems unGandhi-like.

"Go on..."

"I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I was so caught up in being the center of attention and having everyone's approval that I never actually thought about how you felt that night. I crave other's attention so much that I guess I don't think about how I act and how it affects others around me. I guess I crave it so much because it's something I lack. I'm so sorry and I wish I could take back what I did to you, Vince. I'd never purposely risk losing a friend... If you hate me, I really don't blame you." 

There was a moment of silence that seemed to last forever between the both of them until Van Gogh finally broke it.

"I don't think I hate you, but I'm not sure that I can accept your apology either."

"Oh. That's fair. I understand. I guess I'll leave you alone now." frowned Gandhi, turning around and heading for the front door.

"Wait, please don't go." the painter pleaded, feeling his face heat up from embarrassment afterwards. The other perked up a bit from the words spoken, giving his full attention to Van Gogh.

"What?" he questioned.

"I um, kind of want someone to talk to."

"Of course Vannie," Gandhi responded smiling, heading back to the bathroom and sat in front of the other on the floor. "What do you wanna talk about?"

Blue eyes met beady brown ones behind those goofy circular frames. Van Gogh blushed, out of embarrassment for pleading Gandhi to stay and talk to him. That's what he hoped anyway.

"I'm bored just sitting here inside alone, but I'm also too nervous to go outside where all of the chaos is."

"Awww, does that mean you don't consider me an idiot, V?" Gandhi drunkenly asks.

"Huh?" 'What the hell is he talking about?'

"I'm sitting next to you. Inside, y'know?" 

"Okay, so there's also an idiot inside, sitting in front of me." Van Gogh stated, feeling stupid that he didn't catch on to what Gandhi was saying.

Gandhi chuckles before his expression softens, staring at the other. Van Gogh feels his face warm-up from the staring and the need to break the silence.

"Hey, I'm sorry too."

"Huh? For what?"

"For painting you naked. After the night of the party. And calling your um, 'thing' small."

'That last part was unnecessary... Why would I say that?"

Gandhi's expression lights up again, breaking into a fit of laughter. Vincent can't help but join in, laughing at not only the contagiousness of Gandhi's laughter but the fact that it WAS pretty small if he remembered correctly. His laughter dies down after at least a minute of wheezing and their eyes meet again.

"Dude, I completely forgot about that! I gotta say, it was sorta mean, but I totally deserved it after what I did. I forgive you, man. I kind of wanna get more beer. Hey, what are you looking at?" Gandhi turns around to face Abe. Well, actually his legs because of how tall he is.

"Hey guys, I kind of have to use the bathroom. What are you doing on the floor?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what do you guys think of this so far?

**Author's Note:**

> I was not sober writing this


End file.
